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The galaxy is falling apart at every rivet and bolt, constantly being torn at by the brutal conflict engulfing everything, but for those who are paid in legit credit to fix it - well, lets just say business is booming. And here, so close to the front, we've seen it all. Victims of the war constantly are tugging their broken buckets of bolts to us, and we'd turn them back into space crafts while the client enjoys a hot meal, a relaxing tune, and the sight of a beautiful dancer. That's what we do here, all of us - from security, to mechanics, chiefs, servers, and scubbers - we fix things. Make them right again. And believe me, the galaxy needs plenty of fixin'.

The past few days though, it's been a bit more then even we can handle. A couple of sectors away a massive battle was fought between the Republic's largest battle fleet and the New Sith Empire. The Republic lost, but I don't care much about the sides or how they're fairin' in the war. What I care about all the credits they spend. And there's alot to be made! See, we have desperate refugees pouring our way, refueling here before their push into the core to escape the Sith. Damaged republic ships are scattered in with them, soldiers fleeing the front lines and others trying to return home. We even got a couple of Sith settlers in here the other day, stopping by for fuel while checking out the new planetary real estate they just won further up the Hydrian. Even a Hutt was in here earlier, grumbling about their whole cartel crumbling to the Sith - probably for the best if you ask me - but damn did that fat gangster spend some good coin. And so long as fighting doesn't break out, anyone with credits are welcome to spend them here.

It's easy money if you can keep up with it. So we've employed everyone who passes a background check. Family, mercenaries, drop-outs, everyone with a skill set we need and who won't cause trouble. I gotta to say it: I firmly believe Destiny herself is relaxing and spending some serious coin at our fine establishment. Life doesn't get any better then this....

OOC note: You are an employee or working family member aboard the Destiny's Rest. This is the Pre-game roleplay, a sandbox for players to interact and show off their characters. The GMs will have minimal interference with what happens here. The players will drive the daily life until the 6 who will be carrying on are selected. Pick any job you want for your character and run with it. And most importantly, make sure you HAVE FUN!

There, that should do it Kal exhaled as he closed the hood on the run down personnel shuttle, the diagnostics screen finally flickering back a green status icon. Well, everything should be working now Sir he said as he approached the owner, the man looked poorer then a dirt farmer from Hoth, and judging from the previous stae of his vehicle, he had to have been even more desperate then the rest to flee. Not quite sure how you got her up in that condition, but thank the council you did. Kal gladly refused the man's tip, thankful the boss had put up a "No Tips" sign above the shop floor. This guy looked like he'd need all the money he could get, even if he might be robbed by brigands on his way to the next world. After handing the cashier droid the receipt he headed back out to the docking bay, two days after the end of the war and from the looks of it 2 months of repairs left to do, Well, at least I won't end up like that poor bastard, he thought for a moment, then smiled Henh, probably worse if the sith think they can run this place, aint no way Marko'll hand it over easy and thats a fight I wouldn't mind goin' in on.
he chuckled to himself as he made his way to the next ship in line, a mighty long day of work ahead of him in a war that was far from over.

Just wanted to put this down. I'll come up with names/models tomorrow unless someone else thinks of something good.

The once proud Mandalorian warrior, now sometimes security, most times bartender, current server doesn't even grumble as he hands a far to dainty pair of drinks to two equally dainty human girls. In fact if he'd had eyes he probably would have winked. "Enjoy ladies, no doubt they'll rush your ship to the front of the line. I mean how couldn't they." He gives a warm chuckle, "Anyone bothers you ladies you just come find Oln and I'll set 'em straight for ya, otherwise let me know if you need anymore drinks." He leans in and his voice is hushed, "No really, they have me on a quota. Boss takes an eye everytime I don't meet it." He points to cloth covering his eyes. "Two down, don't have a third. Who knows what he'll take next?" One of the girls rolls her eyes but the other lets out a giggle. Oln straightens and shrugs. "I better get back to work so we don't have to find out. Please just consider this handsome face and raise a toast to whatever I lose next." Oln sees the one girl watch his rear as he walks away.

Oln was getting far to used to this. Truth be told they weren't his type at all, still it was interesting to see how they react to the stimulus differently. Marko might not be too happy about it but it made the rush bearable. There was no real fulfillment in this work so he may as well make it entertaining. Speaking of fun Oln runs into some on his way back to the bar. Oln spins his drink tray in his hand, "Hey Fuzz. Looks like you could use something stiff." He smirks and shrugs, "At least you don't have to deal with all the intoxicated cutesy women."

This is something Roker thought about often. He was always on edge if he saw a Sith ship pull in, however rare that was. But he wasn't paid to think. Well, he was barely paid for his normal job. He placed the used plates on a tray, lifting them up and carrying them to the kitchen, after wiping the table clean. He pushed himself through the door, a sudden blast of heat and the smell of many different dishes cooking at once slamming his face. "Nouren!" yelled his boss, "Be careful that you don't drop those dishes. Again."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." he grumbled, taking them over to the sink. Placing them in, he left the kitchen in a hurry, the tray tucked under his arm.

Soon, however, his shift was over, and he left the restaurant, feeling as if he was finally free from some torturous incarceration. I wonder if any of the ships would mind a stowaway , he thought for more than the first time, taking himself down to the bar to unwind.

He arrived at the bar, taking a seat at an out of the way table. He sat for a bit, picking at a nail. He didn't want a drink just yet. He needed to sit, to relieve the pain in his legs from standing all day. He looks out at the other people in the bar, examining the ones that wouldn't notice him. He didn't think it was creepy. He just liked figuring out things about people by watching them. Like the man chatting up the cute Twi'Lek. One can obviously see a wedding band on his finger. And apparently, so can she, obviously not having any.

Roker didn't know what to think about the blind server. He was friendly enough, but a bit enigmatic. He supposed he's just a bit hard to read from just watching. Either way, he continued picking at his nail, watching people until he was ready to order.

“Sooner or later they will come” say watching outside while caressing O.B. ,his gun, an old scatter gun.

Jack then resume his patrol, the same of the last ten years he spent here, its a boring day with nothing to do, the 37 years old security agent known for his spiky paranoid attitude walk to his guard post, the bar, once inside he observe the various clients, looking for newcomers, his clean uniform show that he’s on duty, passing close to the zabrak “Cook” a surname , a way to salute a known face, he ends at the counter, leaning on hit “how’s today kid?” talking to the miraluka, the same question as yesterday and the days before, the complete sentence is -have you seen troublemakers? And give me my usual drink- he spend so much time in the bar that everyone working in it know what he drink. He seem distant , cold, clearly in a good mood

"Shuttle B-086 you are clear to land in docking bay 3. Welcome home" came a voice over the short-range radio."Good to be back..." Raxiil's voice came back, sarcasm quite obvious to anyone who had heard it. The Iktotchi exhaled quite audibly and began what one would call the docking procedure. Well most pilots would...she had no idea what each button and switch did. She would just get a "feeling" about what should be pressed or flipped...and it hadn't done her wrong so far. Within 5 minutes, the shuttle shook with it's contact with the deck floor and Raxiil got up and began to make her way to the unloading ramp.

On her way there she would unzip her black flight overalls, and slip her arms out of it. Her belt would stop the overalls from falling totally to the ground, and Raxiil just tied the overalls' arms in a knot around her waist. Her torso was clad in a sleeveless grey bodysuit with a high neck and red trim. It clung to her like a second skin and flattered her feminine physique. Her utility hung off her belt and her blaster was stowed away in it's holster which, in turn, was strapped to her left thigh.

The ramp hit the decking with a loud clunk sound and Raxiil made her way down it, her boots making soft little clunk sounds of their own. She was greeted by Saar, an old Rodian who, while good at his job as Deck Supervisor, thought himself as an irresistible flirt. He was quite wrong on this account.

"Ahhh, the lovely Miss Griike. The shipment is all in order? Ran into no trouble I hope." he asked."The shipment's just fine...though I took a hydrospanner in advance 'cause mine was acting up. Saved me having to fill out a blasted requisition form. Regarding trouble, I was booted out of another casino again. I swear...when will those bosh'tet understand that I can't predict what card is coming up, just that something good is going to happen to me" Raxiil signed her name on a datapad Saar was holding. The usual paperwork."Would not account for your luck whenever you play us at Pazaak then"
Raxiil handed Saar back his stylus and began to walk off. "Not my fault everyone on this station sucks at the game!" she shouted back some distance away.

Raxiil made her way to the station's bar...damn she needed a drink. She walked in and had a quick look around to judge how full it was, who was there, and which seats were available. One of a pair of human girls smiled at her when Raxiil walked in and she smiled back. She made her way to the bar and sat on a stool which was far from the nearest patron at the bar but that had a clear line of sight at the pair of human girls (without being too obvious, of course). She regarded the barkeep and sighed while rubbing her eyes, "Hey Oln. Can you get me a beer? And give those two Humes a drink too...?" Raxiil gestured with her head subtly at the two human girls, "...Something you think they'd like. You know me, not much into those foo-foo drinks girls tend to order..."

Oln laughs, and before Kal responds he continues his path back to the bar. "You know where to find me Fuzz."

He takes his place behind the bar and feels just a little better. Despite his misgivings he'd spent so much time there it could be said he was comfortable there. The Grease Trap wasn't actually a bad place, at least compared to what you usually got in way stations. Just as he returns Jack takes his usual spot, asks the usual question, and wants his usual drink. Oln can't help but smirk as he starts pouring the easiest drink he knows, straight up corellian whiskey. He's only mildly tempted to use a dirty glass before deciding against it. "Oh you know old man, same old. A glorious battle within blaster range and I'm here making drinks even you couldn't stomach for people who've never held even a sharp knife in their life. But unless you feel like giving the bum's rush for a case of aggravated leering nothing all that note worthy." The bartender sighs. "We're sitting on a powder keg and still nothing fun. I may just start sending Coruscant Lightsides to any imperials I find just so we have something to do."

Oln pushes the drink over to Jack at the same time he doffs his blindfold to Raxiil. "Anything for you love." Without turning a beer floats from the cooler under the counter to in front of the Iktochi pilot. He checks who she is talking about as he bends to grab what he needs for a cocktail. He doesn't know why he's surprised that its the two human girls from before. The one who was admiring him now seems focused on Raxiil. "Of course you want drinks for them. Lucky for them the drinks they like are a little more expensive than a beer." Oln comes up with seven bottles and two glasses. Seven moons over Corellia should be enough to impress the girls. "So while I play chemist why don't you serenade me with your trip. Did you get to crack any prettyskulls or is that still just a beautiful, beautiful fantasy?"

Exhausted from a day of rebuilding junked engines and burnt control modules, Kal barely managed to jogged down the hall to clock out. After a quick oil bath to clean up his arm he threw his overalls in the locker and put on what would pass as clean clothes over his grease soaked fur coat and headed to the bar, he could shower when he got back to his apartment, a little grease wasn't going to stop the beer from entering his mouth. Besides, he had recordings to check.

He made a beeline for The Grease Pit, a not quite thriving establishment that had the benefit of being near enough to the space docks to draw all sorts of odd crowds in, and the misfortune of being there at a time of war. As he entered the bar the threw a nod to the bar tender, a kind blind man who seemed to be chatting up a rather attractive girl, her horns somehow complementing her face. He walked up to the bar and kindly interrupted the conversation, "Sorry to butt in here Oln, Miss, but can I grab a couple beers before you two get too engrossed?" he sent the old man a wink and accepted the beers. Turning to leave he added, "By they way, has your girl said her first word yet?" his fangs glinting in the bar light as a wide grin spread around his face. He knew Oln was a hopeless romantic for for the drama of others, you had to be for the job, but he also had something Kal couldn't find. His humored jab trying to hide his envy of the old man's loving family.

He moved to his usual seat in the back and waited for a moment alone. The best part of the table was the view it gave on the patronage. Kal had spent many nights here looking for a more concrete lead on his sister. That meant eavesdropping on the sith soldiers who had started coming in off the ships. High from the glory of battle and lucid from the liquor, their lips would often be loose enough for rumors to spread. He figured any sighting of his sister were sure to slip out at the sight of him, with the one raid on his homeworld in that many years, figuring a large female cathar sith would be a recognisable sight on the battlefield.

His best bet for info however was on a second set of eyes he had hidden under the table to record while he was at work. he dislodged it and went to work, plugging it into his datapad he set the speed to fast forward listening carefully as patrons came and went, today was starting to look like a bust too however, until he noticed something on the tape.

Oln is just about to start the complicated layered drink when Kal's unexpected nearly causes Oln to end up hanging from the ceiling. Surprises during chemistry were generally a bad thing. Of course he was just working with alcohol now so all it means is he has to dump what was supposed to be the first to moons when they end up mixing because he poured to fast. He'd just have start over.

This time Oln fetches the beers from the cooler with his hands. "Sure thing Fuzz. Nothing new today, sorry." Then Kal brings up Contesa and Oln glows and he gets a dopey smile on his face. "Hard to say Fuzz, hard to say. She might be fluent in Huttese or she might just be gurgling and burping. I'd swear we had a conversation about the galactic stock market the other day though." Oln watches Kal as he walks to his usual table. Oln knew what he was doing. They had an agreement Oln kept his ears open for any big angry Cathars and Kal kept his open for any lone Mandalorians. So far they were both coming up dry.

Oln turns his attention back to the pilot, "Sorry bout that love. Now where were we? Ah yes, chemistry and skull cracking." Oln starts to pour out the moons again.

Raxiil nodded a greeting to the Cathar as he walked towards them, but she scowled inwardly when he caused Oln to screw up the drinks she had ordered and mentioned the bartender chatting her up.

Once he had left, she shook her head slightly, more to herself than anything, and turned to the barkeep, "Sorry to disappoint Oln, but it was just a standard cargo pick-up from Axilla, next door..." When she saw the look of disappointment on his face, though, Raxiil thought to indulge him a bit, "Well I did get in another scuffle at another casino. They still can't understand how the Iktotchi's premonition works. They called security after I had won a few games but I went quietly..." Raxiil ran her finger over the two visible scars on her face that went up from just under her jawline on the right side of her face to her right cheekbone, "...I learned it's ill-advised to do otherwise the last time."

She looked over her shoulder at the two Human girls once more, more specifically to the redhead that had smiled upon her entrance. Their eyes locked and Raxiil offered her a wink. She turned her head as soon as the redhead began to blush, probably not used to the attention of another female, "What about you Oln? You holding up in this hell filled with women and alcohol?" Raxiil smirked, "And how long does it blasted take to make 2 Seven Moons?"